A reflection on fatherhood, getting older, fresh bread, video games, and the terrifying things that might be waiting beyond the tree line.

There comes a moment in a person’s life that feels almost legendary when it finally arrives.

My children are going back to school on Tuesday.

It really makes you think when you realize your kids are getting older right in front of your eyes. You spend so much time living from one day to the next that sometimes you don’t notice it happening. Then suddenly another school year arrives, they’re a little taller, a little older, a little more independent, and you’re left wondering where the hell all that time went.

Part of me worries about the future.

I wonder whether they’ll eventually hate me. Maybe they’ll grow up and decide they don’t want anything to do with me anymore. I suppose parents have worried about that forever. Our own parents probably looked at us when we were young and wondered the exact same thing.

It’s completely out of my hands, and maybe that’s what scares me the most.

My children are growing up. Someday they’ll have their own lives, their own families, their own problems, and I’ll be an old man sitting around the house with my wife wondering how everything happened so quickly.

Life really does pass you by.

Take yesterday, for instance.

I bought a bread maker.

Why?

Because I’ve always wanted to make my own bread.

White bread, rye bread, sourdough, the whole nine yards. There’s something incredibly satisfying about the idea of making fresh bread at home. I especially like the thought of having it around Thanksgiving. Who the hell doesn’t love the smell of freshly baked bread filling the house?

Maybe that’s another sign that I’m getting older.

There was probably a time when buying some new piece of technology would have had me excited. Now I’m sitting here thinking, “Holy shit, I can make rye bread whenever I want.”

And I’m genuinely excited about it.

I’ve also been working on a few projects lately.

What kind of projects?

Video games.

One is a space game I’ve been putting together. The other is considerably stranger.

You play as a hiker trying to travel north during a zombie apocalypse.

Why?

Because I love hiking, and I’ve always been fascinated by the idea of someone disappearing into the wilderness while the world completely changes behind them.

It reminds me of that story about the guy who supposedly went into the woods for an extended trip and returned to discover the world had entered the COVID lockdown era. Imagine walking into the wilderness when everything seems relatively normal, then emerging days later into something completely different.

For the record, I thought a lot of what happened during that era was completely fucking stupid.

But that’s neither here nor there.

Where are all the bleeding hearts now, anyway?

Funny how quickly things change.

But I digress.

The idea behind the game is simple.

You head into the wilderness and discover that the dead have risen.

Now imagine being miles from civilization when it happens.

No television.

No internet.

No news.

No idea what is happening.

You walk out of the forest expecting to find a gas station, a restaurant, or some tiny mountain town.

Instead, you find abandoned cars.

Broken windows.

Blood on the pavement.

Nobody answering when you call out.

Then something moves.

There is something genuinely terrifying about the idea of the dead walking among us.

That and somehow finding yourself trapped inside the world of Silent Hill are probably two scenarios that would scare the absolute hell out of me.

It’s the unknown that does it.

The great unknown.

The great beyond.

The great outdoors.

Everything packaged together with one simple objective:

Live long enough to see tomorrow.

There is already something unsettling about the wilderness even without zombies.

We like to pretend nature is peaceful.

Sometimes it is.

But go hiking alone and listen carefully.

A branch breaks somewhere behind you.

You stop walking.

Nothing.

You keep moving.

Then another branch breaks.

Maybe it’s a deer.

Maybe it’s a bear.

Maybe it’s another person.

Maybe it’s something you can’t see.

Every strange animal call, every movement in the brush, every shadow between the trees reminds you of something modern human beings don’t particularly enjoy admitting.

We are not always in control.

In fact, we’re probably in control of far less than we think.

Step onto a lonely trail and suddenly the rules change.

Walk deep enough into the wilderness and you’re no longer sitting comfortably at the top of the food chain with heating, electricity, grocery stores, hospitals, police, and everything else civilization provides.

You’re just another animal walking through the woods.

One wrong step and blammo.

Now we’re dealing with monsters, ghouls, zombies, strange creatures, undocumented mysteries, and whatever else might be hiding out there.

Because let’s face it, there’s some scary shit in the woods.

Especially when you’re hiking.

Something could watch you for miles and you might never know it.

Something could follow you.

Something could hear you long before you hear it.

That’s the feeling I want this game to capture.

The moment you step onto that hiking trail or approach that peaceful-looking lake, you’re no longer the master of anything.

You’re a sheep that escaped the pen.

And somewhere beyond the firelight, something might be watching.

I’m still trying to figure out exactly how the game should work.

The setup.

The display.

The entire engine, really.

I want it to look simple, almost like something you might have found on a computer in the 1980s, while underneath that simple appearance is a complicated survival simulation.

Food.

Water.

Weather.

Injuries.

Equipment.

Exhaustion.

Cold.

Other survivors.

And, obviously, zombies.

With October getting closer, I’m left wondering what other horrors I can come up with.

That’s what I want to make.

Games people actually want to play.

More importantly, I want to make the kind of games I would have wanted to see sitting on a store shelf when I was a kid.

Games that look simple but hide something enormous underneath.

Games where imagination fills in everything the graphics can’t show you.

Maybe that’s why I keep doing all of this.

I write blog posts.

I make games.

I spend time with my kids and my wife.

I go to a job I truly hate because I have to do it to survive.

Then I come home and create worlds where astronauts explore distant planets, hikers run from zombies, monsters hide in forests, and anything can happen beyond the next screen.

That’s my life.

The kids keep getting older.

I’m getting older.

Thanksgiving will eventually come around.

Hopefully I’ll figure out how to make some damn good bread before then.

And somewhere between work, family, bread machines, video games, and worrying about what might be hiding in the woods, life keeps moving forward.

It moves frighteningly fast.

But you know what?

I wouldn’t trade it for the world.